curl in black and white or perhaps in shades of black
SUBJECT Meaning the thing that is being discussed, considered or studied.
Every artist picks a subject and start to consider, study and discuss, that subject. Altering that subject. Twisting that subject. Finding that subject. Looking time after time at that subject.
seeing that subject
Changing that subject to what they think, to what they feel, to what they want to see, experimenting left, right and centre.
An artist i know well and have seen developing, creates one subject time after time. The subject has a story to tell, which is shown time after time. Yet the subject is altered each time it is created. You can see it on the website .
Yet, some artists change their subject and flow from one subject to the next subject still showing some recognition. Look at the art of Vincent van Gogh and see what i try to say. Others change completely, going from music into painting. They often flow the two gendre into each other, painting on music, composing music for a painting.
Each artist decide along the way, moving from one to an other. Some create, certain art to sell and certain art to give away. Its all up to you, yourself, but that will be also the hardest thing to do. The two artists mentioned here took their own direction, one harder than the other still their choose.
no altering
what you see, is not what i see what you see tomorrow, will not be what you see today even it could be, the same everybody can become that artist
i am working on it, to develop the subjects, to choose the subjects and than, who knows what will be found.
When light and photography getting confused some great pictures appears with mistakes and dumps but reflecting a certain unexpected beauty.
Photography plays with light, plays with prisma.
It wasn’t just nothing, something did happen
written on leafs
flowing down
into a poem of water
you need to turn it
slowly
to find the moment in the movie
first time on stage in the eyes of some people
two languages
many places
turning into
a moment
silence tears fall down her face leaving a trailed salted crystals no sounds no sob no shaking shoulders her face deadly still
teardrops trincle down while darkness surrounds her feathers from dead ducks support her head, getting slowly wet
woollen weight from perhaps walking sheeps suppress her into bed eyes wide open leaving flowing tears out like rising tide
midnight blue skylight sprinkle her face through plastic windows legs stretch out door open into well known surrounding
rise
pyjam trousers soaks up tearing morning dew streaming river cobble at edge kissing bare feet
released to feel, see, hear tender beauty entering morning seal words try to push out sinking emotion deem well known answers
first feathery touch leaves sheltered leafs turn above head shouts wake up all the rest with revolt reddening light
sun appears above hill line enlightening all water drops onto blood coral beads
tomorrow she must leave what holds her so dear
the why creates sedition where can silent tears find that courage
any government during any time in any place does the same
declaring this kind of living illegal
giving the people hell
so others can spend their money
so i will walk against the government any government who
destroys what is so dear to me
showing my photos while walking